Grief: We Gravitate Toward People Who Do It The Same Way We Do

I once posted an article on the Widow Chick Facebook page about men seeking out gender specific bereavement groups because they feel they grieve differently.  Well...of course they do!  I can’t understand the need to go out and buy a muscle car after the death of a spouse (as some of my widower friends have done).  And I can almost guarantee that they probably didn’t go through the same purse obsession that I did right after my husband died. 

I can’t explain it.  It just happened.

I kind of agree with this article and I kind of don’t.  I mean, I’m guessing that I would get a more understanding nod of the head sitting with women during group therapy than I would with a group of men.  Let’s face it:  They just don’t “get it” (the need for the perfect purse, I mean).

But the truth is...I don’t think it’s necessarily gender specific.  I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again:  Grieving is like parenting.  We gravitate toward people who do it the same way we do.

Think about it.  Many of us became parents right around the same time our friends did.  And before we had that first kid, we had visions of BBQs every Sunday, constant playdates, and our children marrying and having a son or daughter-in-law that we practically raised.

But then the kids became toddlers and we noticed that our friends really didn’t care if their child spilled chocolate milk all over our carpet.  They didn’t believe in time-outs and felt that discipline would diminish their child’s creativity.  They watched with delight while their child weaved in and out of the waiter’s legs at a restaurant as we cringed and swore we would never go out in public with them again.

Soon, we started seeing less and less of each other and your dream of their child becoming your in-law became more of a nightmare.

It’s the same process with grieving.

I think, for many people who haven’t had a significant loss, they assume that grief binds us all together...especially if we’ve had the same kind of loss.  And it does in a certain way.  Like giving birth...we can all commiserate with the pain of how it all came about.

But sometimes...that’s where our similarities end.

Some are desperate to take control of their lives after loss, while others have had enough and just wait for life to happen.  Some are ready to date after 6 months and some can’t think about it after 6 years.  Some are exhausted.  Some can’t stop moving.  Some need to be with people all the time.  Some need to be alone. 

And just because your husband died in an accident doesn’t always mean that you are going to relate to someone else who experienced a sudden loss (I think in the beginning we assume that is an important criteria for a supportive friendship when really it’s just a piece of the puzzle).  Someone who experienced a suicide may really hit it off with someone whose spouse died after a long illness.

The truth is, there are so many individual ways that we go about this experience...it’s really hard to find someone else who goes through it the same way.  And when I think about my close widowed friends right after my husband died...many of them were actually widowers.  Because we grieved the same way.

I know for a fact that so many of you go through the same thing I do:  When someone hears about the loss of a spouse, they immediately call you and tell you that you need to get in contact with them or that they gave that friend your information.  And honestly...I have no problem with that.  But in the last 4 years I’ve learned that the bond of “widowhood” isn’t the only bond that counts.  And while I’m happy to talk with them, listen to what they’re going through, and commiserate...I may not be their “go to” person in the future.

And that’s okay.

I’ve said to people many times, “You can give out my information, but I many not be the friend they need right now.  It depends on the person.  And depending on where they are...they may not be ready for my friendship.”

I mean...they may not even want to acknowledge that they’re a widow yet, much less talk to some crazy woman who’s been at it for 4 years.

I’m sure that many of us have learned the hard way that just because someone has experienced something similar, they may not be our new best friend.  It’s like going out on a first date:  You’re so hopeful that this could be “the one” and when you get there...the chemistry just ain’t right.  Finding the right support has a lot of trial and error involved.  But when you find it...it’s something that will forever change you, your life, and how you help others.

And let’s face it.

The right support is the right support, no matter what we’ve all experienced.

 If it’s done well...the details really shouldn’t even matter.

Understanding the Widow Mind. Yeah. Even We Don't Get It.

I posted this question on the Widow Chick Facebook page and after I did, it got me to thinking. I love it when I do that to myself!

The question was, “Do you ever run into times when it seems like other WIDOWS don’t understand you?” And after I thought about for awhile, I realized yes. Yes I have. Actually a lot.

I think a lot of times we assume, since we have all had this experience, that anyone who has shared it automatically knows what we have been through. But when you really think about it…that’s pretty unrealistic. Even though we have all experienced loss, there is no way we have all gone through it the same way. It would be like assuming that even though you have a license, you automatically know how to parallel park my semi.

I remember attending my first young widows support group a few months after my husband died and getting a glimpse as to how we all go through this differently. I will admit, since the loss was pretty fresh at the time, I was kind of surprised that I wasn’t able to walk into this group and that everyone there would completely understand how I felt.

It’s kind of like, the bones are there, but when you really dig deep, you start to see where the similarities end.

An obvious difference I think we have is when it comes to dating and the right time to date. One of the first people I met in that group had lost her husband years earlier and hadn’t even considered dating. Another went on a date a few months after her spouse died. You could just see the wordless exchange between those two people. One thinking, “You’re going to date? Is he even cold yet?” And the other one thinking, “You haven’t gotten any in five years??”

Then there’s the financial differences. When one person has been fiscally devastated by this loss and the other finds herself in the awkward position of being set up for life. The one who’s a little better off can’t quite understand why the other one can’t take a weekend at a hotel to get her head together and the one who sweats every time she looks at her bank balance can’t understand why the other one’s toes look so great all of the time.

And…ah yes. The biggie. The whopper.

The ones who have kids and the ones who don’t.

I don’t think anything divides a widow group more than kids. Actually…that’s probably true of most social situations. Because those of us who have kids, can’t help but link everything back to them. We really shouldn’t be blamed for it. I mean, they’re our joys, our whole world, and the reason we’ll end up in assisted living before the people who don’t have kids. But I often put myself in the shoes of someone who doesn’t have children. We have to be an annoying bunch.

Sooner or later the crowd at Happy Hour gets divided down the bar. With those of us sweating out how we are going to get through this experience without raising potential pyro-klepto-maniacs and those who are either disappointed that they weren’t able to have kids before their spouse died or happily decided that that option just wasn’t for them.

Either way…it’s a big difference.

I think what we all share is a general understanding. But to tap into a widow who completely understands everything you’ve done based on your own timeline and thinks, “Wow! I’ve done the exact same thing” …that’s a pretty rare find.

What it should do, after awhile and a little distance from our own loss, is give us an extra dose of compassion. We may not understand why she’s allowing her mother-in-law to live with her, years after her spouse died, but that’s based on our own relationship with our mother-in-law. We may not get why someone decided to bury ashes right away when we can’t imagine taking them off the mantel, but that’s a very personal decision. We can’t figure out why someone wouldn’t move from a house that is so completely wrong for them and this new life that’s been handed to them, but we may not have all the facts as to why they’ve decided to do that.

Losing a spouse, or just loss in general, is personal and charged with emotions and strong feelings. Most of us spend entire days just pent up with the tornado of feelings we have inside of us. It would be wrong if those emotions turned into intolerance just because we don’t 100% get why other widows are making the decisions they are. And just remember…if you completely lose it on another widow…well…you can’t pull the widow card on another widow. So you better watch it if you want to get invited back to Happy Hour.

Personally, I would direct them at my mother-in-law if she lived with me. But…again…that’s my decision.


© Catherine Tidd 2010